A Little Bit in Love With You
by moriartyscupoftea
Summary: Four times Dean almost said he loved Cas (and the one time he did). / "Why are you so caught up with this? Just, you know. You're my friend, so naturally I worry. About you. Possibly not being okay." Dean wanted to hit himself with something. He didn't even have the excuse of being drunk right now, he was just a massive idiot.


**Notes: this has literally been under process for like, two years. It started with an idea, then the first draft, and then I forgot this existed until a few months ago when I pulled it from the depths of my laptop files. I finished and edited it so, yay! Done! Hope you enjoy. I had a lot of fun, at least. ****Un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine.**

 **-.::.-**

 _ **i.**_

It was just another normal day. Or well, as normal as it can be when you happen to be Dean Winchester. _Normal_ wasn't really mentioned in the job description.

(Nothing, really, was mentioned in the job description except 'kill things'. Technically, what they did didn't count as a job. Dean wasn't sure if that was good or not. Probably not.)

They'd been hunting a demon, he and Sam, and were now staying in some cheap-ass motel somewhere in Indiana. Dean had wanted to keep driving – he really didn't want to wake up to find bugs crawling in his bed again, or some other nice things he'd encountered before. But Sam had insisted that he needed to sleep, and so after few minutes of arguing, they'd driven to the nearest place and checked in.

It didn't take long before Sam was asleep, snoring lightly on one of the two beds. Dean didn't feel like sleeping. It was another reason why he would've much rather just kept driving: when he was awake, and alone, he started to _think._ And it wasn't the thinking itself that bothered him, no. It was _what_ he had recently started to think. Or more like _who_.

Castiel.

It was a weird thing, really. At first, Dean had hated the guy. Like really hated him. He didn't even care that the angel had pulled him out of Hell – or 'raised him from perdition', as he put it. There had just been something so _eerie_ about him. His motionless expressions and that deep, mechanic voice had driven Dean up the wall. More than once Dean had wanted to punch him in the face.

(Which he eventually did, but he'd rather not remember that. His hand still hurt.)

That all was, of course, until Cas had rebelled against Heaven for him. You can't really hate someone who disobeys _God_ for your sake, can you? That was how Dean saw it anyway.

It had begun then, Dean decided. His odd friendship with Cas. It had started out with small things, like saying 'nice to see you' and actually meaning it, or occasionally even worrying about Cas when he hadn't shown up in a while. Though then Cas started visiting them more often, popping up from out of nowhere every other day. They started having conversations. Dean got to know Cas better. And after some time, Dean didn't find the angel so punchable anymore. He didn't feel the need to freak out every time Cas invaded his personal space. He started to _enjoy_ the other guy's company, enjoy talking to someone who wasn't Sammy, or Bobby, or a creepy demon who thought they knew a thing about him.

And soon, before he even realized himself what had happened, he could say Cas was his best – and probably only – friend. Which was weird to even think about: his best friend was an angel. Well, now that he thought about it, it wasn't that weird. After all, Dean's life had been pretty fucking crazy lately.

Then it all changed again, but this time Dean didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing. He assumed both.

Dean would crack a lame joke, and Cas would smile his awkward, barely-even-there smile, and Dean's stomach would do a flip. Occasionally, Dean would find himself staring at Cas' ridiculously blue eyes, getting lost in them. (Sam had once caught them, simply staring at each other. ' _Eye fucking'_ , he'd coughed with a not so well hidden smirk. Dean had smacked him in the head.)

But he knew that in some level Sam was right when he'd tease Dean about being ' _head over heels for an angel, who would've ever thought?'_.

And then Dean had come to the conclusion that he had started to feel something for Cas that was slightly beyond casual friendship. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. And Dean didn't want to think about it. Not at all.

So when on times like this he was forced to do so, Dean did what he did best – drank his worries away. He didn't necessarily like getting drunk, but it kept him from thinking too much and that was what he wanted to do. Stop thinking, even just for a moment. He corked the bottle open, settling down on the couch and turning the television on.

 **-.::.-**

Dean was making his way through the possibly fifth bottle of beer (he didn't really keep count), when there was a familiar fluttering of wings heard from behind.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. _Of course_ he had to show up just now. Of- _fucking_ -course. He slowly turned his head around while sitting on the couch, giving the angel a weary smile. "Hey, Cas. What's up?" The other man stepped closer, but still keeping his distance. "Nothing is 'up', Dean. I'm standing right he– is this another saying of yours that I don't understand?" Dean rolled his eyes, turning back to the television. "Never mind it Cas. How are you?"

"I'm... fine, I suppose," he responded while walking closer, and Dean shifted a little so he could sit down next to him. "You suppose?" Dean asked, worry creeping into his mind. _He's an angel, he can take care of himself for god's sake_. "It's nothing, Dean. Do not worry about me." Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. "But that's the thing Cas. I _do_ worry about you," he said, and then frowned. He wasn't sure why he was telling that to him. Dean blamed the alcohol.

"What do you mean?" Dean could almost _feel_ the angel frowning from the other side of the couch, even without looking. "I mean," he turned his head, "that I do..." Dean's words trailed off, his mouth closing and opening itself when he looked at Cas. Who's face was about _five inches away from his_. "I... you did... what?" Dean mumbled, suddenly forgetting what he'd been about to say. What were they talking about again?

"I asked, why do you worry about me so much?" Cas said slowly, as if talking to a child. He watched Dean with his head tilted slightly to the right, eyes narrowed. _Oh yes, that was it_ , Dean thought absently and wondered what he should reply. Those eyes were not helping him to concentrate at all. Ridiculously pretty, they were. Dean frowned again. He should stop drinking, it was making him too honest. "It's just that..." he began, taking a deep breath and putting the bottle to the table before leaning against the couch again. "Yes?" Castiel's eyebrows were raised, waiting for Dean to continue.

"It's because I–" And then there was a loud _thud_ , and Sam muttered something sleepily from the floor. _Right_ , Dean remembered suddenly. _Sam_. Always there to ruin the moment. Cas quickly stood up, eyeing Sam and looking almost... annoyed? Dean frowned. Why would he be annoyed? Dean was, sure, but... "We'll talk later," Cas said to Dean with the smallest of smile before disappearing.

Dean sighed. The one time he was this close of telling Cas... Finally, he looked over at Sam with a strained smile. "Morning Sammy. Sleep well?"

 _ **ii.**_

It had been over a week since Cas had said they'd "talk later". And they still hadn't. And if Dean was being honest with himself (which he was trying to do, he really was), he was pissed. He'd been so close to actually admitting his feelings for Cas, even if he'd been wasted at the time. Now though, without the courage of alcohol in him, he wasn't so sure if he even wanted to tell Cas. What were the chances of Castiel feeling the same way; or feeling at all? No, it was probably better to stay quiet.

Sam had been watching him with that certain worried look in his eyes the whole time after the Drunk Night Incident, and Dean didn't like that. Usually it meant that his brother was about to lay a bunch of life advice on him, followed by the deep conversations Dean despised.

They were currently driving again, and Dean admitted it – he looked like shit. He also felt like it. But was it absolutely _necessary_ for Sam to throw those glances at him every other minute, like he was about to crash the car into the one driving ahead of them anytime now? Yes, he may have thought about it once or twice, but still. Completely unnecessary.

They kept going, Dean humming quietly to whatever song was playing and Sam keeping an eye on him every once in a while. It was about half an hour later when Dean finally snapped after Sam had again looked at him with a deep frown. "What is it, Sammy? Something on my face?" He spat, and took a sudden turn to right with maybe a bit too much force. Sam looked taken a back, and quickly glanced at the road from his window. "No, Dean. I was just... uh, worried I guess."

"Worried?" The conversation reminded Dean of the one he had with Cas earlier. "Yeah. You've been acting kinda... Odd, lately." Dean's hands held the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. "What are you talking about Sammy? I'm not acting _odd_." Instead of answering, Sam looked at Dean doubtfully, eyebrows raised. A silence followed, and Dean hoped Sam had dropped the subject. No such luck.

"Did something happen with Cas?" Sam asked quietly, still looking at Dean. He sighed. "No, nothing happened with Cas. Why would anything happen with Cas? There's nothing going on with Cas."

"You were talking about me?"

The car took a sudden dive to the left, barely avoiding taking a tree with it before Dean straightened it again. Someone pressed a horn from their behind, but Dean ignored that it favor of turning his eyes to the rear view mirror. Sure enough, Castiel was sitting there on the back seat, looking confused and maybe a tiny bit scared. "Dean?" He asked, concerned. Dean didn't reply, slowing the car down and stopping it on the side of the road. He sighed and leaned his head against the steering wheel, feeling like his heart might collapse from beating so hard.

"Jesus Cas, you scared the living hell out of me," he breathed out after a few seconds of silence. "You don't– you don't just _appear_ out of thin air when someone's driving." He heard Castiel shift, his trench coat ruffling against the seat. "I apologize," the angel said, not sounding the least bit of sorry. "But I heard my name. And... I did promise we'd talk later, last week. It seemed like an appropriate idea to fly down here."

Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him, the 'I was right all along'-face in motion. He lifted his head up, dragging his hand over his face. "Well, sorry to tell you that your visit was kinda pointless, I can't talk now since Sam's here, so–" But before he could finish, Sam was already opening his seat belt, a hand on the door handle. "I can go for a walk while you two... _talk_ ," he said and threw a wink in Dean's direction. And before Dean was able to do a thing he was out of the car and Castiel was sitting in his place, staring at Dean. The silence stretched on.

"So... you wanted to talk?" Dean finally managed to ask, avoiding looking at Cas the best he could.

"Our conversation was interrupted last time, I believe."

"I, uh, yeah. What were we even talking about then? I can't remember," Dean said with a forced laugh. _Smooth one, Winchester._ He risked a look at Castiel, who was staring at him with something that might be amusement. You never knew with angels, though.

"If I recall correctly," he said with a tone that suggested that he did indeed remember perfectly well and Dean wasn't fooling him the least bit, "I asked you why you worried about me?"

Dean hoped his internal panic wasn't too visible in his eyes. He licked his lips, noticing the way Cas' eyes followed the movement. _Huh_. _That's new._ Before Dean could process the sudden development any further, Castiel turned his gaze back to Dean's eyes like nothing had happened. Right. Dean had probably just imagined the whole thing. Or then it was just Cas being, well, _Cas_. He sure as hell wasn't going to ask. Castiel coughed, still waiting for Dean to answer.

"Why are you so caught up with this? Just, you know. You're my friend, so naturally I worry. About you. Possibly not being okay." Dean wanted to hit himself with something. He didn't even have the excuse of being drunk right now, he was just a massive idiot. Apparently Castiel agreed, because he raised an eyebrow at Dean and looked thoroughly disappointed.

"You were, I think, about to emphasize _why_ you worried about me particularly. But if you want to leave it at that, fine."

"No, Cas, it's–"

And then Cas disappeared, leaving Dean sitting alone on the car with his hand reaching out towards the other man but landing on nothing instead of a shoulder. He let out a sigh, leaning back against his own seat. When Sam returned, he took one look at Dean's face and decided not to ask anything. They drove in silence for the rest of the way.

 _ **iii.**_

Dean didn't hear from Cas, or any other angel for that matter, for another month. And then when he did, it was at the most inconvenient time he could've possibly imagined. Dean had (stupidly, so _stupidly_ ) thought that well, if he and Cas weren't going to happen, he could very well go back to picking up chicks like he'd used to. Right? Wrong. During the first week after their so called 'conversation' in the car every time he'd so much as opened his mouth near a woman, Castiel's disapproving face had swam into his mind, eyes narrowed and all. That had, in fact, dampened the mood quite a lot.

But it had gotten almost normal, after a while. It didn't feel the same talking someone up as it had before, but he sank back into his familiar skin soon enough. What he felt for Cas was probably just a crush anyway, or really deep friendship. Why should that affect his love life?

(Dean didn't think that regular friends wanted to kiss each other senseless, but then again he didn't have much experience in the area of friends anyway so who knew.)

So when Cas appeared next time, he found Dean necking with Amanda on the outside of a bar, horrendously drunk.

"Dean, is that... Dean?"

He broke off from biting Amanda's earlobe (was it Amanda? Or Mandy?), and turned his head towards the voice. Over his shoulder he saw the figure of Cas, standing on the dark parking lot. His vision was blurry, and focusing on one thing seemed like a pretty impossible task, so he opted to switching between Castiel and the cars. Dean distantly felt Amanda/Mandy's fingers on his hair, trying to pull him closer, but Dean turned around completely and pushed her lightly away.

"Heeeeeey, Cas!" He called out, and then frowned. He didn't need to shout, Cas was right there. "Hey, Cas," he repeated with a whisper this time. He stumbled closer, steps crossing as he walked. Amanda/Mandy called out for him but Dean ignored that. The angel hadn't moved an inch from where he was, frozen in place. Before long Dean was close enough for Castiel to smell the alcohol from him.

"Cas, my friend, Castiel," Dean said cheerfully. "What brings you here?" He asked, waving his arm to his left as to show off the bar behind them. Cas hesitated, eyeing Dean.

"Gabriel told me I should've listened to what you were saying, the last time," he began. "He also said I was a– it doesn't matter. It seems though that you're rather intoxicated at the moment, so–"

"I am not even drunk, Cas, just a little teeny tiny bit tipsy 's all," Dean slurred and the other side of his lips stretched into a grin. "And about that thing you... said before the other thing," Dean blinked slowly for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. What was he about to say? Oh yeah, talk about feelings with Cas. Castiel. The angel. Dean giggled slightly. He was friends with an angel, who could say that?

"Yeah, so, I've been _totally_ meaning to say this to you for a long time," he started again. "And then I just never got to it and went back to..." he pointed vaguely at the direction where he'd last heard Amanda/Mandy from. "That. But that's not what I want, not really."

"Dean, I really don't think this is the time–"

"Nonsense, Cas. Now, listen to me," Dean said and pointed at himself. "I am one hundred percent, completely, totally in–"

"Dean, I must go. I will come back later, when you've... sobered up," Cas interrupted and then disappeared in the blink of an eye. Dean was left in the almost empty parking lot, staring at the spot where Castiel had just been in a second ago. "In love with you," he said to himself quietly.

 _ **iv.**_

"Dean, something's bothering you. And before you start lying, don't. I can see from miles away you're upset," Sam said and Dean opened his eyes to find his brother standing above him, hovering over the couch. He blinked, sitting up slowly. Sam was looking at him expectantly.

"Well, you're not wrong," Dean began. Sam smiled victoriously, but Dean continued before he could say anything. "It's just, I kind of fucked up," he mumbled and thought back to the scene on the parking lot. He couldn't remember everything, exactly, just bits and pieces. But he did remember Cas finding him in the middle of giving a hickey to some woman, and he did remember Cas leaving. Sam looked at him, crossing his arms.

"Kind of or did?" He asked, and Dean hated how small he felt as Sam stared down at him.

"Did," he admitted and leaned against the couch with a sigh. Rolling his head back Dean stared at the roof intensely, as if he could see through it and somehow signal Cas to just listen to him. Sam sat down next to him, not looking at Dean but staring straight ahead. "What happened?"

And so Dean told him what he could recall, eyes staying fixed on the roof. He conveniently left out the fact that he was maybe sort of in love with Castiel, but Dean knew even a moron could see through his lies. Sam stayed quiet through his tale, and when he was done there was a moment silence in the room. Then;

"You're such a massive idiot, Dean."

"Like I don't know that," Dean mumbled back and lifted his head up to look at Sam. He was wearing an odd expression – a weird mix of proud, sad, pitiful and happy. Dean didn't know what to make of that.

"You, uh..." Sam blinked a few times, looking for words. He turned his eyes to stare down at his shoes, which Dean was glad for. "You love him, don't you?"

And really, was there a point in denying it anymore? Sam knew him too well to notice if he lied anyway, and besides – it was true. And Dean was really trying to be more honest with the few people he had left.

"Yeah," he said shakily. "I do. There's just something _so–_ I don't know. I can't explain it."

Sam looked up at him and seemed to ponder something, frowning deeply. Then he hesitantly started talking, leaning closer to Dean and lowering his voice. "You know, I was talking with Cas a little while ago, and–"

But then he was interrupted by a soft fluttering of wings, and Sam snapped his mouth shut quickly. Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing his luck once again. When he opened them again Castiel was there, eyeing him and Sam with his head tilted and a curious expression on his face. "Hello Dean," he said. "Sam."

 _Only if you'd been here a few minutes ago to hear me pour my heart out,_ Dean thought bitterly and shot a small smile towards the angel. "Hey there, Cas. How have you been?"

 _ **v.**_

Dean woke up feeling dizzy. His head was spinning, and when he tried to open his eyes the light made everything ache and he shut them quickly, brows furrowing. He tried to remember where he was and what had happened. The last thing he recalled was some kind of a hunt with Sam – he didn't know what it was that they'd been hunting, or why. There'd been lot of guns firing, he remembered that. And then Cas had appeared, thinking they were in trouble, and then... Nothing. He couldn't remember anything. Dean sat up, taking his time. His side was aching, for some reason.

He tried to open his eyes again. The light made him blink rapidly as he slowly gained his vision back. A hotel room – good. No hospital meant no major problems. Dean tried to even his breathing, and then he felt it.

Someone was holding his hand. No, scratch that. Someone was _squeezing_ his hand, clasping it so tightly Dean wondered how he hadn't felt it before. He turned his head to the left, frowning. Castiel was sitting on a chair next to Dean's bed, as close as laws of physics allowed him to be, and he looked like absolute shit. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair sticking up in million directions like a bird's nest. And he looked dead tired. That made Dean frown even more, but seeing as Cas was obviously alive he relaxed slightly and leaned back to the pillows that had been pushed against the headboard.

"Dean," Castiel breathed out and if it weren't for the fact that he was an angel Dean could've sworn he sounded relieved. "You're awake."

"Cas," Dean croaked out. His voice was hoarse and he coughed to clear his throat. "What happened?" Dean asked. He didn't say anything about their still intertwined fingers, he didn't want to. _Chick-flick moment_ , a voice screamed in his head. He ignored it.

Castiel was looking at Dean, eyes narrowed. "You don't remember?" Dean shook his head slowly.

"I probably shouldn't– Sam will be back soon, I'm sure he can explain better than I," Castiel said quietly. An alarm went off in Dean's mind, because since when was something so bad Castiel didn't want to talk about it? "Tell me," he said. It wasn't a question or a request, and Cas pressed his lips into a thin line. The silence stretched on before the other man finally sighed, averting his gaze.

"Fine," he began. "You were hunting with Sam. It was supposed to be a normal job, but apparently something went wrong because Sam called for me. Which, now that it came up, was at a very inconvenient time. It doesn't matter. You were 'screwed up', as they say."

So far it sounded normal, and Dean couldn't understand what could've happened that had put him in a bed and made Castiel, _an angel_ , look like he'd just been run over by a large truck. Cas went on, and his grip on Dean's hand tightened as he spoke.

"You were shot," he said and now that he mentioned it, Dean did feel like his right side had been lit on fire on top of the small aching. _That explains_. "And, uh, you would've been shot twice if– if I hadn't stepped between you and the bullet. Which, of course, then hit me."

Dean looked at Castiel with sudden concern, scanning for any obvious wounds or other scratches. He found none. "You don't look like you were shot," Dean blurted out and Castiel's eye twitched.

"I did have a lot of time to heal myself, so yes. I suppose I don't look like I've been shot," he stated and if Dean had thought he'd heard worry in his voice before, now it was without doubt filled with it. And anger. _Anger?_ Why would he be angry? And what did Cas mean he'd had a lot of time? Unless... Dean gulped nervously. "How long have I been out?" He asked, voice not much louder than a whisper.

"Three days," Castiel replied and a silence fell between them.

Three days. Dean had been passed out for three whole days. And Cas seemed like he'd been awake for the same time, because if he'd healed himself then nothing explained his disheveled looks. "And you..." Dean began, but he couldn't finish the question and the words were left hanging in the air. Cas seemed to catch on, though, because his eyes found Dean's again and held the gaze. "I have been sitting here since we brought you in," he said and suddenly Castiel didn't look like an almost immortal angel or the Lord. He looked scared, sad, afraid, _human_. Dean's heart did a flip that had nothing to do with the gunshot wound.

"Why?" The simple question seemed to catch Castiel off guard. "What do you mean, _why_?" He asked, like it was _obvious_ that he'd sit beside Dean's bed for _three fucking days_ , watching over him, holding his hand. Dean could hear his own heart beating loudly, and well. Was there ever going to be a better chance than this? If Castiel didn't feel the same way Dean did, he was man enough to own up to it.

"Look, Cas," he began and prayed to every single being out there that this time Castiel wouldn't leave, or Sam wouldn't storm in. "I've been trying to tell you something for a while now, and... And I really need to just say it, okay? And if you wanna leave that's totally cool, I understand, but now the thing is that–"

Dean was interrupted by a pair of warm lips on his, kissing him softly, and he was sure his heart was going to jump out of his chest if possible. Dean could smell the pinewood and fresh air from Cas, and _holy hell Castiel was kissing him,_ his nose nudging Dean's, and then before Dean could pass out the lips were gone.

"– I love you," he whispered to Castiel who was looking at him with the widest smile Dean had ever seen. And when Dean returned the smile he probably could've been described as the definition of _joy_ because that was exactly how he felt. Cas leaned in again, stealing a short kiss. "You know what," he mumbled softly against Dean's lips. "I quite think I love you too."

(Later when Sam came back and found Castiel curled up against a sleeping Dean, he didn't even try to hide the fond smile on his face. Took them long enough to get there.)

 **-.::.-**


End file.
